


Falling Inn Love

by theladylabyrinth



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Contractor!Jughead, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to business partners to lovers, F/F, F/M, Inn Owner!Betty, Inn owner Choni, M/M, Riverdale AU, Self-Harm, Volunteer Firefighter, choni, mentions of self harm, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-19 05:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20651888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladylabyrinth/pseuds/theladylabyrinth
Summary: When Betty Cooper loses her corporate job and her commitment-phobic boyfriend in the same week, she drunkenly takes a chance on a “Win an Inn” competition online. She arrives in Riverdale to claim her prize, realizing she has quite a fixer upper on her hands and is in way over her head. Luckily, local contractor Jughead Jones is prepared to lend a hand, but only if Betty can allow herself to open up and let him in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on a movie I saw on Netflix, "Falling Inn Love". The whole time I kept thinking how perfectly the characters fit with Betty and Jughead, and how I could change the story and the characters to not be too similar to the movie. It just kept coming to me throughout the whole movie, and I had to write it. You don't have to have seen the movie for it to make sense though. I hope you enjoy!

“Win an Inn!!”

Betty stares, confused, at the email that obviously missed the spam folder on its way to her inbox. She doesn’t delete it, though, and watches the video that brags of beautiful vistas and a stunning history at Blossom Farms Inn in Riverdale, New York. 

Clicking back to her home screen, she checks the time and realizes that Chad and the rest of the boys’ club are two hours late for her pitch. She straightens the water glasses she’d poured promptly at 8 AM for the thousandth time, and sneaks a glance at the tray of donuts set out by Chad’s assistant before even she had arrived. She’d already fallen victim to their temptation...twice, and decided that she would do an extra half hour on her state of the art, virtual reality Beleton bike that evening after dinner with Trev in order to quiet her mother’s voice in her head berating her for indulging in the sweet treats instead of a low calorie breakfast.

Finally, Chad and his boys boisterously entered the room and Betty rolled her eyes before greeting them with her most professional Cooper smile. 

“Half day today, guys? It’s already 10:30,” Betty remarked, unable to conceal the ice in her tone.

“Betty! You know, Adam had an amazing last-minute pitch for our investors this morning, and since his dad is one of them, our hands are really just tied. But we’ll definitely get to your pitch next week!”

Betty felt her stomach drop to the floor. Everything she’d been working and preparing for - all the coffee she’d had that morning, and it was all just pulled out from under her because of good old fashioned nepotism. She glanced at the easels all around the room, set up to demonstrate every point of her pitch just perfectly, and she felt her short nails graze her palms as she realized it was all likely to be for nothing.

Never one to show defeat, she smiled her professional Cooper smile once again, and told Chad that she was looking forward to it.

\--------------------------------------------------------------  
“It’s just so infuriating, Trev. These guys have no idea how hard I worked on this proposal and what a huge deal this net zero energy green home would be for our industry. Whatever garbage proposal Adam had for his dad is more likely to set us back with our investors than anything else.” Betty had been ranting to Trev all the way to dinner, and she took a deep breath as he gently patted her hand and reassured her that everything was going to be just fine.

She cringed a little at his dismissal of her frustration, but brushed it off when she realized there were no menus at the table. 

The waiter passed by at just that moment and she signalled for him, saying, “Oh, excuse me, I don’t think we got any menus…”

“Oh, baby don’t worry! I had my assistant pre-order our meals for us. I didn’t want you to have to worry about anything after your long day.” Trev smiled charmingly, obviously quite proud of himself.

Betty’s eyes narrowed slightly as she realized that her dinner choice had been made for her, and allowed her nails to press just a little more deeply into the palm that wasn’t held in Trev’s. At the slight relief the sting brought her, she was able to smile and appear to thank him sincerely for being so...considerate.

\------------------------------------------------------------  
“Trev just drives me so crazy sometimes, Pol! I mean, he thinks he can choose my dinner for me, but not once has he ever left so much as a sock at my place. He wants all of the control in the relationship, without offering any commitment whatsoever.” 

Betty was speaking in hushed tones to her sister as she transitioned from downward dog to cobra in their biweekly yoga class. Polly rolled her eyes when the instructor shushed them for the hundredth time, and turned to Betty as they settled into child’s pose.

“Betty, you just have to give Trev an ultimatum like I did with Jason. I mean, the twins are two, we’ve lived together since we graduated from college, but no ring on my hand? I told him he had until the end of the year and you know what I got for Christmas,” Polly bragged, brandishing the Harry Winston iceberg on her left hand. 

Betty chuckled softly and mimed zipping her lip when the instructor shushed her from right behind her ear, and she began thinking of how she would tell Trev she was done waiting for him to make up his mind.

Just then, Betty’s phone rang from inside her bag and a collective groan came from every woman in the class, along with a piercing glare from the instructor. Polly collapsed out of her tree pose in laughter, and Betty apologetically ran to answer whatever call came through her do not disturb settings.

She stepped out to answer the call from Chad, and in the next moment she felt her life crumble to pieces.

“Betty, they’ve all pulled out. Every last investor, even Adam’s dad. None of them are interested in the project anymore. We’re done, belly up, over.”

Betty’s fingernails finally pierced the skin of her palm, and she began taking deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth as she gathered up her things and bolted from the yoga studio.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
That evening, Trev and Betty met up for frozen yogurt (Betty’s choice, as there was no way to preorder and no way for Trev to control her order when he was busy choosing his own toppings), and Betty told Trev all about her afternoon of phone calls trying to convince other companies that she was not overqualified for whatever position they had available. 

“I mean, I was thinking it would be great if I could set out on my own and start my own project, get my own investors, set my own schedule. That way I know I’d have a shot at making my pitches how I want, you know? I mean, if we moved in together there would be plenty of room for a home office, and that way we could save enough money for me to have time before I need a steady paycheck again.”

Trev saw right through Betty’s plan to disguise the proposal to move in together behind her career plans, and he stopped her in her tracks. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Betty. Did you just say move in together?” Trev asked incredulously, as if he had never even considered it in their entire relationship.

“Well yeah, Trev. I mean we’ve been together for two years, don’t you think it’s about time we took a step...any step toward a future together?” Betty’s tone was firm, but her eyes pleaded with him to give her any indication that he actually wanted a future with her.

“Things have just been going so great the way they are, and you know how I need my space -”

“You know what? I’ve heard enough. This is over,” Betty said with finality, turning away to head home and ignoring Trev’s calls for her to come back and just enjoy their life as it was.

\----------------------------------------------------------  
Betty had expected her life to take a turn for the better after losing her miserable corporate job and her commitment-phobic boyfriend in one week, but after two weeks of emailing her resume, calling investors, and drowning her sorrows in wine on the couch, she began feeling nostalgic for her old life. She cried as she scrolled through pictures of her and Trev on her phone, and got up to open her second bottle of pinot grigio of the night. 

She sat down to pour a hefty glass and caught a whiff of herself, which prompted her to try and remember the last time she’d taken a shower. However, she was distracted from the thought when she heard an email notification. She lunged for her laptop, hoping against hope that it was an offer for a meeting, interview, phone call, or anything besides a rejection. She sighed when she saw that it was another invitation to apply for the “Win an Inn” contest, and decided to watch the full video this time. 

She sipped her wine as she watched the images of the beautiful, idyllic inn pass before her eyes, and her ears perked up when she heard that the only requirement for submission (in addition to a small fee) was a 400-word essay convincing the owner that she deserved it. The final slide of the video said “Last day to enter!”

Betty drained the rest of her glass of wine, cracked her knuckles, and began typing out the words she suspected would win over whatever grumpy old man or decrepit woman owned this lovely, historic, and likely lucrative business in upstate New York.

The next morning, Betty woke up with cotton mouth and her debit card clutched in her hand. She rubbed her eyes and looked at her computer screen to see a new email whose subject line contained the word “CONGRATULATIONS” in all capital letters. Betty clicked on the email to find that she was officially the owner of a beautiful inn in upstate New York.

“No, no, no, no, no, no. What have I done?” Betty worried, but as she glanced around the room at the piles of tissues, old pizza boxes, way too many empty wine bottles, and unfolded laundry, her next move was to book a ticket to New York before she thought too much about it. She needed a change of scenery for a while, and this inn just might be the opportunity she needs until she can get back on her feet.

“Blossom Farms, here I come,” Betty muttered confidently to no one at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Betty arrived at the small airport, and used the map on her phone to determine what the best option was for the next leg of her trip to Riverdale. Realizing that she was still hours away, she found the nearest bus station, bought a ticket, and settled in for the six hour trip to the small town.

By the time Betty stepped off the bus, the sun had risen and she had no idea where she was. Next to the gravel road was a bus stop sign and a small bench, but as far as the eye could see, there was nothing else. The bus driver took off without a look back at the woman who was as good as stranded in the middle of nowhere, and with a scoff, Betty took out her phone to figure out the next step of her journey. She figured at the very least she could call a taxi to take her to Riverdale, but as she clicked on her browser to search for a cab company, she realized that she had absolutely no service. 

“Dammit! You’ve got to be kidding me,” Betty began marching determinedly up the hill to try and achieve at least one bar that would allow her even a modicum of communication with the outside world. However, unbeknownst to her as she sought out cell service, her rolling suitcase took a trip of its own to the bottom of the hill. By the time Betty realized that her suitcase had gone rogue, it was too late. She turned just in time to see it collide with a classic green Chevrolet pickup, and she shrieked as it exploded its contents all over the gravel.

Betty reached the bottom of the hill as the truck’s driver knelt down to right her suitcase, but Betty hardly noticed him as she assessed the damage to her wardrobe, now covered in dust and no doubt torn in places from the traumatic event. 

“My clothes! My shoes!” Betty mourned her Italian leather boots, scuffed and scratched after being scattered across the rough gravel. She realized then that her hardshell suitcase may have done damage to the old truck, and she immediately began politely apologizing and promising to pay for any damages. She reached out to quickly grab the lacy bra he was handing her, and she finally looked up to meet the bluest eyes she had ever seen, positioned above a shit-eating smirk.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think this put too much of a dent in it,” the stranger spoke, barely containing a smug chuckle. 

Betty’s cheeks flushed as she snatched the garment from his - very large, rough - hands, and suddenly all the rehearsed politeness from before was gone. His smile faltered a little when he saw the anger flare in her eyes, but returned as she struggled to close her suitcase and right it and herself. 

“Here, let me get that into the truck and I’d be glad to give you a ride to town,” the stranger offered, quite presumptuously if you asked Betty.

“Actually, no thanks. I’m just going to call an Uber,” Betty replied without glancing up from her phone.

The stranger paused, waiting to see if she was serious, and as she pivoted with her phone in the air like some kind of strange antenna, he realized that she was. He quickly situated his face to keep his grin from widening and upsetting her further, and replied, “You’re going to have a hard time finding an Uber driver in Riverdale.”

Her head snapped up at that. “So this is Riverdale?” she asked, relieved to hear that she was so close to her destination.

“Yes, and if you’d just let me grab this, I can take you into town,” he attempted again, reaching out to take the handle of her suitcase from her, but pulling his hand back as if she’d tried to bite him when she jerked it out of his reach. 

“I said no thank you,” she repeated, and continued more calmly, “If you could just point me in the direction of town, I’d appreciate it.”

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, and she bit out a “thank you” before beginning her long, stubborn stumble down the gravel road.

“Sure thing,” he replied, and Betty would have gladly left it at that if he hadn’t added, “Who doesn’t love swooping in to save the day?”

The comment seemed innocent enough to him, but Betty stopped dead in her tracks and did a slow pivot back to the stranger, who suddenly looked nervous for the first time since their encounter began.

“Let me make one thing clear, asshole. I don’t need saving.” She barely had time to catch his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline before her back was to him again and she was on her way to town.

“Well, that was...interesting,” he muttered as he watched her clumsy retreat and climbed back in his truck to continue his day as usual.

\---------------------------------------------------------  
Betty finally reached what she assumed to be “town” and passed by a row of quaint businesses, choosing to duck into one that read “Cottage Lane Cafe” hoping that it would provide her with a much needed pick-me-up.

She was greeted warmly by a dark-haired man dressed in a vibrant purple sweater, who introduced himself as Kevin before asking how he could help her.

Betty reached out to shake his hand, and said, “I’m Betty, and I would absolutely love a cup of coffee. Black.”

“Coming right up, Betty!” came a voice from further back in the store, another man with dark hair, but his was shoulder length and his wardrobe consisted of jeans and a leather jacket under his apron. 

“That’s my husband, Joaquin,” Kevin continued, “and you must have just stepped off the bus, huh?”

“How’d you know?” Betty asked sheepishly, suddenly self-conscious about being so obviously an out-of-towner. 

“Well, we only get one a day and you’ve got that dazed look that can only come from hours on a bus to nowhere,” Kevin replied.

“Please ignore him, sweetie,” Joaquin comforted Betty as he handed her her cup of coffee, and Kevin sauntered to take his place at the counter. “And what else can we do for you?”

“Well, I’m looking for Blossom Farms. I’m the new owner.”

No sooner had she gotten the words out than she jumped at the sound of a mug shattering at the counter, Kevin’s face white as a sheet, and she looked around to see that everyone in the cafe was staring at her. 

“No problem,” Joaquin replied calmly, and the cafe went back to its business as usual.

Betty tried not to focus too much on the strange reaction, but still gave a light press to the shallow cuts on her hand to bring enough clarity to head in the direction Joaquin had pointed her.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Betty followed Joaquin’s directions, and after walking about a half mile, she came across a sign at the entrance to a dirt road that read “Blossom Farms”. She chuckled out a laugh that sounded a little deranged, even to her, but she pressed on to the mailbox. She opened it to find that it contained an envelope that read “BETTY COOPER” in large, handwritten scrawl. She excitedly opened it and removed several glossy prints of the images she had seen in the email about the inn, along with the deed to the inn and a key ring that held several antique skeleton keys.

She continued flipping through the photos as she approached the house giddily, but when she looked up to take in the grandeur of her brand new inn, her new journey in life, her saving grace after the sudden downfall of her corporate career, her entire demeanor fell. The inn from the photos stood before her, but it was the zombie version of the one in the pictures. She took in the shattered window panes, peeling paint, overgrown flower beds, and crumbling front porch, and she wanted to kick herself for believing that it could ever have been true. 

Deciding that it might not be that bad, she soldiered on, eyeing the French doors on the front of the house for her entry. However, before she could even approach the doors, her foot went straight through the front porch step. She caught herself in time before her leg snapped, but too slow to save the heel of her favorite pair of Chanel ankle boots. 

“What the hell!” Betty yelled to no one, grumbling as she freed herself from the maw of her front porch step, and carefully ascended the rest of the climb to the front doors. She pulled the antique keys from the pocket of her jean jacket, and jiggled it furiously in the key hole. 

“Come on!” Betty struggled with the key with all her might, when suddenly something came loose, and the moment of victory died as quickly as it began when she realized that the entire door had come off the hinges and out of its frame. She huffed out a breath of air to move the lock of hair that had fallen loose from in front of her eyes, and persevered through to the rest of the house. 

She felt like an intruder in the beautiful old home, but kept reminding herself that she was the owner now and had every right to be here. She climbed the steps cautiously, not wanting a repeat of what happened outside, and about halfway up, she heard a thumping noise coming from above. She continued onward, curious about the sound, thinking that maybe the previous owner was still around to offer her some guidance about what to do next. 

“Hello?” Betty called out, hoping for a response to prove that it wasn’t a ghost or a murderer behind the closet door as she entered the bedroom where the thumping came from. 

“Hello!” she tried more forcefully as she reached out for the handle to the door. Taking a deep breath in, she flung the door open and heard two blood-curdling screams in succession. The second one, she realized, came from herself, and the first came from the black furry face that she was sure reflected her own startled expression.

She bolted back down the stairs and flung open the side door to the house, where she screamed again when she found herself face to face with a woman who had pale skin and long crimson hair. Betty stumbled backward in fear as the woman apologized furiously, and gently approached Betty with concern.

“My goodness, dear, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” the woman exclaimed.

“A...goat, actually,” Betty muttered, trying to catch her breath.

“Ah, yes. That would be Gilbert. Well, I am so so sorry to have startled you! I assume you’re the new owner of the Blossom Farms Inn. My name is Cheryl Blossom, and I own the Tea Rose House up the street, the only bed and breakfast in town. When I heard you’d arrived, I just had to clip some welcome roses and greet you myself,” she finished with a bright smile, and an extended bouquet of huge red roses.

Betty could only stare at the woman, trying to make sense of everything that had happened in the last few minutes. Cheryl stared at her, still smiling and offering out the roses, waiting for Betty’s mind to catch up with all the information she’d just given her.

Finally, Betty concluded that this was a friendly interaction and reached out a hand to accept the roses. “Thank you,” she uttered softly.

“Of course!” Cheryl continued into the house uninvited, and Betty followed her in a daze. “My my, this place certainly did fall into disrepair after Nana Rose passed,” Cheryl clucked her tongue as she gestured to the creepy painting on the wall that Betty now realized must be of Nana Rose. 

Cheryl continued, “You see, Nana Rose ran the inn herself up until the day she died, when she left it to my brother Jason, the golden child and heir to the Blossom throne until he took off to California with the first bimbo he knocked up. A true shame, considering my dream of owning the Blossom Inn myself and forming my own little Inn-pire right here in Riverdale.”

Betty, finally catching up, narrowed her eyes at the word play and the insane family drama that she’d apparently stumbled into. She kept listening as Cheryl weaved the intricate tale of her family’s betrayal into a proposal.

“Once Jason got rid of the last guest and took off, the inn turned into this. I couldn’t touch it because he insisted on keeping the deed despite my pleas to sell it to me. Rather than keep it in the family, he decided it would be more lucrative to sell entries in his ‘Win an Inn’ scam and, well, here we are,” Cheryl finished with a look down her nose at Betty, the obvious victim of his scam. “I’d be happy to take the inn off your hands for a price that I think you’ll find quite fair, and you can pocket the cash and be on your merry way back to wherever it is you came from.” Cheryl grinned wickedly, dramatically handing Betty a small scrap of paper with a rather insulting number written on it after a dollar sign.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Betty’s stubborn nature kicked in right then and there. As she replayed the recent events of her life, she decided that going back to San Francisco now would be admitting a humiliating defeat, and as she reflected on her dormant dream of a net zero energy green home, she realized that this was her chance to bring it back to life and make it a reality.

“Actually, Cheryl, I’ve decided to stick around for a bit and renovate the inn myself. Thanks so much for the offer though.”

Cheryl’s nostrils flared, and she struggled to force a pleasant expression onto her face as Betty smugly stared her down. 

“Well, then. Best of luck to you, Betty.” Cheryl turned on her Louboutin heel and stormed out of the house, slamming the side door behind her.

\------------------------------------------------------  
Betty’s first night in the Blossom Inn could only be described as tumultuous. 

She tried to turn on the kitchen sink to make some tea, and was greeted with disgusting brown water that had a very odd smell. She tried to turn the water off, which only made the sink angrily explode and shoot brown, smelly water all over the kitchen. 

To-do list item #1: Fix kitchen sink.

As night fell, the pleasant daytime temperatures that only required a light sweater turned into frigid, snuggling weather. Unfortunately Betty had no one to snuggle with and no centralized heating in the house. She prayerfully attempted to light a fire, and the victory that came with the raging flames was dampened by the living room filling up with dark smoke because the chimney needed to be cleaned.

Betty put out the fire, and the shattered window panes allowed the house to air out quickly. She took it as another small win.

By the time she actually went to bed, the house was dark and quiet, and a storm raged outside. Everywhere she looked from her place in the musty, antique four-poster bed brought some kind of terrifying imagery straight out of a horror movie.

After spending half the night awake and ready to defend herself, she groggily made her way to The Cottage Lane Cafe for a cup of coffee and a wifi connection to plan her purchases for the repairs to the inn.

Kevin and Joaquin took one look at the bags under her eyes and her messy top knot, and they quickly got to work. Before she could even order, they had a huge cup of black coffee in front of her, along with a chocolate croissant. Rather than leaving her table after bringing her breakfast, they both stood staring at her in anticipation. Betty took this as a hint that they wanted to know what she thought, so she bashfully bit into the hot, buttery, flaky pastry.

All modesty went out the window when the delectable chocolate melted on her tongue. Betty rolled her eyes and let out a sensuous moan that had all eyes in the restaurant glaring at her, and Kevin clapping his hands in victory. Joaquin watched Kevin proudly as Betty sung her praises of the treat. She had never had anything quite like it before at any of the five star cafes and bakeries she’d visited in California.

After she finished up and was buzzing on sugar and caffeine, Kevin and Joaquin directed her to the local hardware store to begin her project in earnest. Prepared with a list, her old kitchen faucet, and a credit card that she fully planned to max out, Betty walked into the hardware store.

She browsed the limited selection, searching for a sleek, modern, and eco-friendly kitchen faucet that would suit her needs. She slid a stack of boxes on a shelf to the side, and shrieked when she was greeted by an olive-skinned face framed by gorgeous dark hair. 

“That’s quite a beautiful piece you’ve got there,” the face remarked.

“I beg your pardon?” Betty, still reeling from the shock of his appearance, realized that this was the same stranger from her suitcase run-in as soon as she’d arrived in town.

The man made his way around the shelf to stand in front of her. “The faucet - all brass, made by hand - they just don’t make ‘em like this anymore,” he said dreamingly, taking the piece from her hand to admire it.

“Broken? Yes, what a crying shame,” Betty remarked, turning back to the shelf to continue seeking her replacement.

“It probably just needs a new washer and you’ll be good to go. This baby is made to last several lifetimes,” the man implored her, still admiring the craftsmanship of the brass faucet.

“Well, I’m not looking to revive this one. I’m going for a modern look at the Blossom Inn, thank you, so I’m looking for something from this century.”

“The Blossom Inn? That place is full of so much history and character. You’re looking to turn it into some kind of 21st century minimalist cookie-cutter hotel?” The man seemed angry now, and Betty bristled at his self-righteous tone.

“My state of the art, one of a kind designs will hardly be cookie-cutter, and considering the fact that I’m the owner of the inn, I have the right to do with it as I damn well please. Now if you’ll excuse me -” Betty’s point was punctuated by her knocking a box of bronze washers to the floor as she turned away from the man, and she cursed as she knelt down to pick them up. Much to her chagrin, he stooped to assist her, and she thanked him bitterly. She may be furious with him, but Alice Cooper’s brainwashing would never allow her to let a kind gesture go un-thanked, no matter how smug the do-gooder was.

She snatched the first stainless steel faucet she saw on the shelf, and stalked her way to the counter where she was greeted by a small, middle-aged man with the kindest eyes she had ever seen. Comforted by his demeanor immediately, she smiled a true Betty Cooper smile, and greeted him by the name on his nametag. 

“Good morning, Fred! I’ll take these for now and you will be seeing a lot of me around here. In fact, do you know anyone in town who does contract work? I’m doing some renovations on the Blossom Inn and I’ve got all the vision for design, but I’m in over my head when it comes to executing them,” Betty felt confident and in charge for the first time since her arrival, until Fred started speaking.

“The Blossom Inn! You’ve got quite the project on your hands there, no doubt about it. Say, Jughead is the best contractor in town and I’d be glad to give you his number! In fact - Hey Jughead! This young lady would like your number!”

Before Betty could question any further about the strange name, she turned to see who this kind, helpful man was calling out to. Her eyes widened comically when the dark-haired stranger looked up and started heading their way.

“Uh, you know what, Fred, I actually don’t need a contractor,” Betty desperately pleaded. But Fred’s kindness was no match.

“Oh but you can’t take on that project on your own, and Jughead’s the best for miles around here. Jughead, what’s your number? This young lady would like to have it!”

Betty blushed as the man - Jughead - sauntered over with that smug grin, running his fingers through his jet black hair to push it out of his eyes.

“I really, really wouldn’t but thank you anyway,” Betty rushed out before Jughead could reach the counter, shoving the old and new faucets into her bag and wishing she had the ability to apparate.

\--------------------------------------------  
“I was only going to come for a couple of weeks, but I’m thinking this inn will take at least three months to finish.” Betty sat in the middle of her living room with her Macbook in front of her on the dusty antique coffee table.

“But Betty, I didn’t even get to see you before you left!”

“That’s because we’re broken up, Trev,” Betty responded with a good-natured eye roll.

“Oh yeah, that,” Trev replied dismissively.

“How about for now, we say we’re friends? We can discuss it further when I get back. How about that?”

“Uhh, I hate it.” Trev continued with his wry, charming smile, “Betty, you know how much I - oh sorry Betty, my facialist is calling and I have to take this. I’ll call you back!”

And with that, the line was dead and Trev’s face was replaced by Betty’s desktop once again. She sighed and took a sip of her wine, glancing over the rim of her glass when she heard a thump come from near Nana Rose’s painting.

“Listen here, Nana Rose. You’re more than welcome here, as long as you stay in your part of the house, and I’ll stay in mine. Deal?” At the sound of another thud and a few crumbs of drywall falling from the ceiling, Betty replied, “I’ll take that as a yes,” and took another nervous sip of her merlot.


End file.
